


Rebuilding Eden

by adaille



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is a Sweetheart, Domestic Fluff, Everyone Assumes Sam Knows, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Free Endorphins, Ha Ha Surprise Sam Doesn't Know, I can't help it, M/M, Okay I lied maybe some things are going to hurt a little, Sam’s POV, angst just happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-02 13:11:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19442134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adaille/pseuds/adaille
Summary: Sam’s always understood his brother better than anyone else born on their fragile little planet. But lately, Dean’s been acting...weird.*  *  *Dean admired the honey, tilting the jar against the fluorescent glare from overhead. “What do you think about honey chicken tonight, Cas? You stickin’ around? Or should this go in tea, or with cheese?”“You may use it however you like, Dean.”“I know, I know, but you were telling me—with the flowers and the flavors, and I wanted to make sure—” He waved the jar around, making vague gestures in the air Sam didn't understand. But then, Sam usually regretted the ones he could translate, so he'd long since stopped trying very hard.





	1. Honey for Tea, and Other Things

**Author's Note:**

> _Plans to post a short vignette every day until the story runs its course_
> 
> _Is trash so makes no promises to keep to the schedule in advance_
> 
> Love you all!

Castiel joined them in the kitchen, windswept and pink-cheeked from the sun, a little mason jar half full of honey in his hand. “Hello, Dean." Then, without looking away from Dean, "Sam.”

Dean made grabby hands at the angel, who turned over the jar with a crinkle of his eyes. “Is this—” 

“Yes, it is.”

Dean admired the honey, tilting the jar against the fluorescent glare from overhead. “What do you think about honey chicken tonight, Cas? You stickin’ around? Or should this go in tea, or with cheese?”

“You may use it however you like, Dean.”

“I know, I know, but you were telling me—with the flowers and the flavors, and I wanted to make sure—” He waved the jar around, making vague gestures in the air Sam didn't understand. But then, Sam usually regretted the ones he _could_ translate, so he'd long since stopped trying very hard.

“This one is merely wildflower honey, Dean. If you wish to have some for tea and cheese, I can arrange for you to have those as well.”

Dean grinned, and Sam thought no more of it. At first. But months later, Dean had a line of small honey jars lined up on the counter, reserved for weirdly specific uses like GLAZE, and TEA, and COFFEE, and CHEESE, and ICE CREAM, and FOR TOAST, the letters carefully blocked out in Dean’s messy handwriting.

Also, reserved meant _reserved._ When Sam ran out of his store-bought stuff one day, he tried to steal some of Dean’s ridiculously extensive stash for his muesli. Dean acted like he’d scratched the Impala with his butter knife instead of using it to scoop honey from the apparently-only-ever-for-TEA jar.

* * *

“Dude. You don’t even drink tea.” Sam tried to jab the knife into the jar again, but Dean was too quick.

“That’s one of Cas’s jars,” he’d hissed, screwing the lid back on.

“He drinks coffee, same as us!”

Dean only squinted at him. “It’s _for tea_.” He pointed at the letters declaring TEA for added effect.

“Fine, I just picked it because it was the fullest. Which one can I have?”

“They’re not for you,” Dean growled.

“You gave me some before!”

“And you said it tasted like the stuff that comes in the little bears at the store!”

“I like the stuff that comes in the little bears at the store!”

“The little bears are glorified sugar water! They suck compared to—”

The rustling of wings behind them signaled Castiel’s arrival, and Sam whipped around. “Cas, can I use some of your tea honey?”

Dean blurted out “Tell him no, Cas, I told him—” even as the angel answered “Yes, Sam, you may have some if you wish.”

“Ha! Now give it here, Dean.”

...Dean sulked for two days.

He sulked for three more when Cas gave the next jar of honey to Sam. In the end, it didn’t matter, because Dean stole it for his own collection on the fourth day, scowling at Sam the entire time while muttering that he _‘wasn’t appreciating it properly’._

* * *

Dean eventually bought Sam’s silence with several plastic bear containers after Sam threatened to tell Cas that Dean wasn’t sharing. Why they were such a big deal to Dean, Sam didn’t know. They really did taste pretty much all the same to him, and he was supposed to be the one who was picky about that sort of thing.

No doubt Castiel was collecting them from only-Chuck-knows-where while he was on missions for Heaven, or wherever else he went when he left the bunker. Sam would’ve thought Dean wouldn’t like the reminders of Castiel’s frequent time away, but he was finding this newer, softer version of his brother harder and harder to understand.

At the end of the day, Sam had his bears, and if Dean wanted five thousand little labelled jars like some sort of Suzy Homemaker...whatever kept him from putting whiskey in his coffee was good enough for Sam.

* * * * *


	2. Small Green Things

Dean’s adventures in Real Kitchen Cooking made sense to Sam, at first. Sandwiches, well, those hardly counted as ‘cooking’, but they were an obvious choice now that they had a good refrigerator and the meat wouldn’t get all gross and sweaty.

Other days, Dean would heat up some frozen pizzas after a hunt, or make fresh ones when they were shut up in the bunker doing research. He cooked burgers, sometimes, but every manly man’s man knew how to make burgers, and the same went for steaks and wings. All in all, they were meals just like Sam expected from someone like Dean.

The cheese platter on movie night, that was a bit of a surprise.

* * *

“Here, try this on for size.”

Dean set a cutting board down on the coffee table in the man cave with a flourish. The wooden surface was layered with slices of different cheeses, and he added several bowls full of some sort of red sauce, something that looked like cut-up prunes, and a jar of forbidden, special, you-can’t-have-it honey.

“Um, what’s this?” Sam squinted at the offering.

"Pepper jelly, raspberry sauce, dates, honey.”

“No, I mean, where’s the popcorn, licorice sticks, chips, and beer? You know, the usual movie night junk food?”

“Never thought you’d be the one to complain about us eatin’ better, Sammy.”

“I’m not complaining, I’m just surprised. You’re actually gonna let me have some of that honey?”

“Sure, whatever. Hey, Cas, try this, you’ll like it. Swiss cheese and fresh pepper jelly.” He scooped a bit of sauce out of its bowl with a ridiculously tiny spoon, plopped it on a slice of cheese with holes in it, and made scooting motions towards Castiel’s face. “Open up.”

And that was completely unfair, because everything was molecules to Castiel anyway, so why would Sam’s inability to differentiate honey even matter if Dean was just gonna feed the snack platter to an angel with no taste buds?

But Cas...Castiel seemed to be chewing the slice thoughtfully, his eyes squinting as if he was cataloguing the flavors for later. Sam knew Castiel was getting weaker, but enough to taste food properly? No.

Dean would’ve said something.

* * *

At first, Sam dismissed the snacks as an anomaly. It wasn’t like cheese took a lot of preparation or understanding to cut up, after all.

Dean’s sudden month-long obsession with round heirloom squashes, on the other hand—now that was weird. Sam didn’t even know where he was buying the little grey-green things from, but he was suddenly cooking them up in every way imaginable. Julienned in pasta, sliced thin in casseroles, cut into wedges and rolled in parmesan cheese, any way you could imagine, Dean made them all.

Clearly Castiel had noticed Dean’s obsession, because he started showing up with armfuls of the little things as well, and Dean was always sure to croon in delight over whatever shopping Cas had done that week. When Sam failed to properly admire the firmness of one batch of vegetables, Dean told him to apologize to Cas, then didn’t talk to him for the rest of the day when Sam didn’t bother to seek Cas out to do it.

It’s not like it mattered, and it’s not like Cas would care. Whether it came from the grocery store or the clearly superior farm stand Cas must’ve found, squash was squash.

* * *

When Dean suddenly and loudly announced a desire to make caprese chicken, Cas appeared a few hours later with basil, heirloom tomatoes, and fresh milk. Knowing the angel, he’d probably fetched them from Italy himself. A bit of a waste of the powers he rarely used anymore, but Dean nesting in the kitchen made everyone happy. And making mozzarella from scratch for their caprese chicken certainly seemed to make both Dean and Cas happy.

Sam wasn’t sure, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean was spending more time watching the cooking channel than porn now.

* * *

Before long, little bundles of fresh herbs in water jars started living next to the honey. Sam would've sworn they were being replaced every few days with new bundles, but fresh herbs were more his type of thing, not Dean's...weren't they?

* * *

Not long after _that_ , Dean started hanging the plants to dry all over the pantry.

"What, the grocery store jars not good enough for you anymore?" Sam meant it to be teasing, as he batted one of the offending bundles away from his face so he could see where he was going, but it clearly hit a nerve.

"Don't touch them with your dirty hands!" Dean started tugging groups down, holding them by the strings he'd hung them by. "Seriously, stop it. Everything you're doing, just stop."

"I'm trying to help you move them! Geesh."

"You're gonna knock the leaves off!"

"It's not like you don't have plenty!"

"What the fuck, Sammy. I thought you'd be more supportive."

"What, of your homesteading?"

Dean froze, green trembling in his hands. "What?"

"Dude, it's fine." It was getting a little weird, to the point Sam was considering checking for hex bags and witches, but...it was fine. "Just, you know, need to be able to walk without running into shit hanging from the ceiling."

Dean's eyes shifted, and Sam thought he'd lost him for a bit, but then he re-centered. "You're right. Cas needs a drying frame."

"What? _Cas_ needs—"

"Or a solar dryer thingy? They showed one in that magazine, where'd I put it…" Dean wandered off, herbs still in hand.

* * *

Three days later, all the herbs hanging in the pantry disappeared. Sam worried he'd hurt Dean's feelings, and was considering ways to make it up to him, when a new set of jars showed up in the cabinets and the freezer of all places, each full of newly dried herbs, carefully labeled in block letters.

Seriously, when had Dean even learned what tarragon was? And how many types of basil did they need?

He started to probe again, but Dean was actually cooking vegetables without complaining, and he was happy, Cas was happy, so Sam was going to be happy, too.

* * * * *


	3. Larger Green Things

No matter how comfortable the Impala's leather seats were, and no matter how accustomed to sitting on them for long hours Sam was, some road trips just seemed to drag on. He shifted in his seat, stretching limbs too long even for the front footwell, and felt a satisfying series of _pop pop pops_ all the way down his spine and in his left knee.

"Maybe we should've sent another team," Dean said. "Getting a bit old for this."

"Think I'm just getting spoiled."

"Hm?"

"I mean, I'm not going to start waxing poetic about my memory foam, but you know, something to be said for home comforts." And wasn't that a funny thing, having a home that wasn't just wherever they happened to be?

"Yeah, it'll be good to get back to Cas."

Sam blinked. "Think he'll be there?"

Dean glanced over, then back to the road. "Why wouldn't he be?"

"Not like he hangs around when we're not there."

"Sure fucking hope he did," Dean muttered. "I'm not replacing Phil and Miranda just because he didn't fucking water them."

Phil...and Miranda? No. Sam ran through all the other things Dean could've said that rhymed with Miranda (veranda? panda?), but came up empty. "Say that again?"

"Sorry, you're right, that was rude. Takes two." Dean glanced at him again. "I'm just tired. Even the lines on the road are starting to blur together. Don't, uh...don't tell him I said that, 'k?"

They really had been in the car too long. Sam rubbed his temples, but the bleary sense of having two different conversations wasn't getting any better. Was he getting a migraine?

"Sam?"

What was he even supposed to be telling, and to who? Cas? Someone named Phil? Did it matter? "Don't worry about it."

They rode in silence for a few miles, then Dean tried again. "Kinda miss using my other knives, too, you know?"

"Your...kitchen knives?"

"Mm."

"Yeah, me too." He really had been taking Dean for granted; until the past week of diner food and stale crackers, he hadn't noticed the slow but steady increase in food quality. "You've, uh, I haven't really said thanks. For, you know, feeding us all that fancy shit lately. I know you're not really one for green food."

"I mean, it'd be a waste not to cook it, after—oh, shit, did you see that?" Dean slammed on the brakes, tilting Sam forward in a rush of _shit fuck no not the glass! OOF. oh thank fuck, seatbelt. shit._

Sam rubbed at his stomach where the seatbelt had caught. "What is it?" 

Dean was glancing back in the rear view mirror, driving slow, shifting in his seat like he was checking for somewhere to turn around. Nothing was on the side of the road, no strange lights, no random creatures, no witches, no angel glow, no demon smoke, just...trees. Grass. Asphalt.

"Dean?"

Dean was turning the car around, then crowed happily. "It was! Check it out."

Sam still didn't see what had interested him so much, but it was clearly a happy interest and not an OH SHIT kind of interest, and his heartbeat began to settle.

Then Dean started to turn left onto a dirt side road, and…

"Nature Creek...plant...nursery?" Same looked further down the drive, past the trees, and saw a row of greenhouses. "We're going to a plant nursery? What, you need _more_ basil?"

"No," Dean snarked. "But they might have something cool. You know, a coming home present for Cas. Because we were away for so long."

"For...five days."

"Yeah, exactly."

"No, I meant we were only gone five days, it's not like that was a long time."

"Supposed to be three, there and back again."

Sam started to argue further, but Dean was already parked and getting out of the car. "Look! 'Exotic tomatoes and peppers'! It's a bit late in the year for seedlings, but maybe they have some bigger ones?"

It should've been obvious, but… "Dean...these are _yard plants_."

"Yep, good ones, too. Look!" He lifted a couple branches. "Think Cas would like this one?"

"Dean." He lowered his voice. "We live _underground._ "

Dean glanced at him, but continued reading the small signs at the end of each row.

Sam tried again. "Underground? Where there isn't any sun?"

"Yeah, and the second you step outside, there's sun, Sammy, what's your point."

"My point is…" Fuck. He ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't...I don't think this is the best present for Cas, you know? Maybe we could...get him a book or something."

"A...book?" Dean looked at the small plant he'd picked out. "But this little guy is Japanese."

Sam felt like he was going to regret asking, but… "And?"

"It's not...it's not like he can just up and go to Japan to get peppers right now. Might be nice to, I dunno, have something from, you know, _away_."

"Cas is away all the time." As soon as Sam said it, he wanted to take it back, even before he saw Dean's face fall. But it was too late, Dean was putting the plant back, tucking it in carefully, then he whirled and stomped back to the car.

He should apologize, but it was better than Dean giving Cas a gift he couldn't keep, right?

* * *

When Dean disappeared from the motel to grab the greasiest breakfast he could find the next morning, Sam thought he must’ve dallied to flirt with the waitress. But the spindly Japanese pepper plant was buckled into the back seat when they left for home, the bottom of its pot swathed in plastic to protect the leather. Dean didn’t mention it, so Sam let it go this time. 

* * *

Dean gave the plant to Cas at some point no doubt, but Sam never saw it again, so Cas must’ve found it a home in someone else’s garden.

* * *

"You want to run in there real quick? Maybe get Cas something?" Sam gestured at the store across the road from the diner on their next long hunt, resisting the urge to rub his stomach, which wasn't pleased over the "salad" he'd just eaten.

"Like what, a box of nails?"

"They have plants in those places too, you know."

"Yeah, houseplants."

Sam felt frustration build in his chest (or maybe that was heartburn), but he shoved it down. He was trying to extend an olive branch after last time, why wouldn't Dean take it? "Exactly. Indoor plants? That live indoors?"

Dean looked at him blankly, and Sam sighed.

"Plants that could live indoors with us? Cas might like one of those, instead of, you know."

"You can't eat a houseplant, Sam." And with that, Dean unlocked the car, slamming the driver's side door behind himself.

Perhaps the re-gifting had hurt his brother’s feelings more than he'd thought.

* * * * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I promised nothing would hurt, I feel it my duty to assure you all that Cas loves his little Japanese pepper plant and makes sure Dean knows on a regular basis.


	4. Stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this was supposed to be fluff, but then this kind of happened. Oh, Sam...

The rest stop was windier than Sam would've liked, snatching at the edges of his notes, but he understood the urge for Dean to pull over and stretch his legs. They'd been in the car a lot lately, and while it was still less than in their younger days, they had a home base now.

It was only natural that Dean would want to be in it sometimes, and Sam was usually happy to oblige, even if it had never felt quite as much like home to Sam as it obviously did to Dean.

They still had a job to do, though. It wasn't like they were going to get an apple pie life out of this. If anyone knew that, it was Sam. He'd tried, Dean had tried. It just didn't work like that, not with civilians. They'd have to find someone like them, and who like them had the time when there were so many monsters?

"Hey, Sammy, could you pop the trunk for me?"

Dean's voice snatched Sam back to the present, over to where Dean was standing behind the Impala with a slightly strained look on his face. He pushed up from the picnic table, and wandered over to join him.

Sam was expecting duffle bags. Or weapons. Or...well, to be honest, he wasn't quite sure what he'd been expecting, except that it hadn't been the rather large rocks Dean had cradled in his arms.

"Little help?" Dean reminded him.

"Oh, right, sorry." He hurried to open the trunk, then helped Dean settle them into the well beside their gear. "Need some ballast?" he teased.

Dean glanced at him, then back down at the addition to their cargo. "They seemed kinda cool, could have lots of uses."

Sam blinked. Sure, they were 'kinda cool', streaked in color and funky shaped, but...rocks? Dean seemed happy though, and he'd learned his lesson with the plants.

* * *

Later, he found a sack of smooth stones in the trunk when they got home after hunting a river spirit, and concern bubbled up again.

He went looking for Dean, but found Cas in the kitchen first, admiring the jars of honey, or possibly the small ribbons that had appeared around their lids at some point.

"Have you noticed anything…different…with Dean?"

Castiel's brow furrowed with concern. "Is he ill?"

"Not exactly…" Sam tried to think how to put it into words, then just went for it, waving his hand at the honey, the jars of herbs, the two potted plants. "Cursed with some kind of domestic hex, maybe?"

Cas shifted, looking down at the small things with some expression Sam couldn't interpret. "You think this could be some kind of curse? To make Dean want these things with someone?"

"Well, I mean, yeah. It's not like he's ever wanted them before, you know? Then suddenly, bam. He goes from telling me there's no apple pie life for us and to grow up and suddenly he's _this_. Collecting food, and plants, and rocks, of all things...I'm just worried about him, you know?"

Cas turned fully away, hands on the counter, his voice gravel rough. "I hadn't thought of that. You...I will look into it."

"Yeah?" Sam felt relief flood him. He wasn't crazy then, something _was_ up with Dean. Cas saw it, too. "I've looked through some of the stuff we have here, but no luck so far. Maybe you—"

"I said I would look into it, Sam."

Shit, was Cas...mad? Or…

But then he was gone, and Sam was standing alone wondering what the fuck was going on for the second time that day.

* * * * *


End file.
